Flowers make anything beautiful. That's why we have them at funerals.

Broken phrases
Heap
like plastic
in our oceans

Words don't rhyme
Anymore
they're drifting further from the shore

Writing stops
abruptly.
Cause: writers block.
The words no longer flock
like birds

A heavy pen
ran out again
No ink
No colour
hands find another lover.

Sentences stay
incomplete
pushing us
towards defeat

We write
the words that discover
our lovers'
uncharted perks.

We're all just longer poems
that needed a little work.
-Tronel V.

Soft
but still my loft.
You aren't rough
and tough
inherently-
but you can be.

Not for me only, you care
but for four you despair.
In this tournament of juggling
no one knew you were struggling.

How can you be so gentle
when the world treats you like a rental?
This makes me cry.
A heart so grand must never die.

I had a glimpse of uphill
shattered by your will.
I only knew something was wrong
'cause your stubble was a little long.

I peeked 'round the corner.
You didn't notice me- your daughter.
Your face was taught with wretched thoughts
but relaxed into love when I got caught.

You were trapped in your minds corner
where -no longer- it was a little warmer
The clouds looked like they hadn't been washed in a while.
But you still smiled.

When you say you admire another
for their unique kind of thunder-
I try to unblind you-
see: Only you can turn the sky cove blue
after a hurricane Sandy
makes my life feel unhandy.

You never ask if I Love you
cuz' you know I simply do.
I finally know why you're so rad-
cuz' you're sent from above, Dad.

- Tronel V.